Chapter 55: That Same Old Tavern

On South Cross Street in Alkhemia, once the liveliest thoroughfare in the city, a quiet chill had begun to settle in.

The worsening economic climate was becoming impossible to ignore. More and more shops had shuttered their doors, and fewer and fewer employers could afford to offer work to adventurers.

The Iron Slag, too, had seen its clientele dwindle. In the past, that alone would have sent its owner into a rage. An orc's temper was famously volatile, with calm moments few and far between.

But these past few days, the tavern had been strangely peaceful. The reason was simple: the owner had changed.

Una Hellfire, the former orc proprietress, had already packed her bags. Once she finished selling off what she couldn't take with her, she would leave the city for good.

As for Iron Slag, it had changed hands twice in a single day and now appeared to have been folded into Alkhemia's official assets.

Private property becoming public was a rare sight indeed. Usually, the reverse happened, with public assets quietly slipping into private pockets.

Whatever complicated maneuvering lay behind the scenes wasn't important. The orc bartender still stood behind the counter as always, polishing his glassware.

But the dwarf singer, whose singing had been atrocious by any standard, was gone. With so few patrons left, the tavern felt oppressively empty.

The orc bartender sighed, a hint of regret in his eyes. The dwarf had been a decent fellow, after all.

With the weary air of someone who had watched his fortunes wax and wane, the bartender poured himself a mug of ale and savored it slowly.

Clink. The tavern door was pushed open as a tall knight in heavy armor stepped inside.

There was no need for introductions. The rose-and-dragon insignia etched into the armor marked him clearly as a paladin of the Lyon Empire.

The orc bartender set his mug aside and, by instinct, slid an empty bottle into the most convenient spot within reach.

But once he got a proper look at the newcomer, he realized this was not the same paladin as before. Their auras were similar, but this one was... noticeably less impressive in terms of looks.

Starfall seemed not to notice the bartender's small movements at all. He took a seat at the bar.

"A glass of rum."

Starfall was here for information. The ten members of the Knights Penitent had spread throughout Alkhemia, gathering every lead they could find.

The Iron Slag tavern was a critical node. After all, it was there that Allen Watson had crossed paths with the lich, sowing the grudge that later ended with Allen's capture in war.

The orc bartender poured the rum and slid it over. "Paladins can drink? The last one only ever had water."

Starfall downed the rum in a single gulp, then said, "Allen Watson is an ascetic. I admire that, and I can't match it. But a drink like this... don't bother pouring me a second."

The bartender shrugged. "Most adventurers can't afford good liquor. They just want something cheap and plentiful. Sir Paladin, you're not really here to drink, are you? If you're after information, do you know the rules?"

Starfall produced a gold coin, flicked it with his thumb, and sent it neatly into the orc's vest pocket.

"The Lyon Empire never mistreats its friends."

The bartender maintained a polite smile, though inwardly he thought it was all nonsense.

The Lyon Empire was human through and through. Since when had humans ever considered other races their friends?

And hearing a paladin lie so smoothly only made the bartender more wary.

A paladin capable of lying had likely adopted the Oath of Vengeance.

To eradicate all evil, such paladins were permitted limited use of deception and sneak attacks against their foes. They could even temporarily cooperate with lesser evils to destroy greater ones.

Aside from their absolute intolerance for evil itself, their moral code was far more flexible.

Outsiders sometimes sneered and called this sort of paladin black knights.

"Honored guest," the bartender said evenly, "what information are you looking for? If it's the details of that bet, I can recount the whole thing."

Starfall shook his head. "No need. I'm already well acquainted with that scam."

Alkhemia had long since finished investigating how Allen Watson had been cheated out of several thousand gold coins. Starfall had the full report in hand. He was here for something else.

"What do you know about that undead?" Starfall asked.

The bartender thought for a moment. "He wasn't a regular. He came by two or three times at most. Other than his name, I don't know much."

"Didn't he post a bounty here after swindling my companion?"

"That's right. It was related to the sewers. One moment."

The bartender retrieved the original bounty Ambrose had left behind, then explained everything that had happened in the tavern before and after the bounty was posted.

Starfall listened carefully, interjecting now and then.

"What's in the sewers? Why did they become so dangerous?"

"No idea. I'm just a bartender. I don't know alchemy."

"What did the lich want slimes for?"

"No idea. I'm just a bartender. I don't know magic."

"And the group of druids who were trapped there? If you repeat that line again, I'm challenging you to a duel."

"That won't be necessary. I do know them. They didn't leave. Rumor has it they're still in Alkhemia. I just don't know where they're staying."

......

The prolonged questioning hadn't been particularly effective, but Starfall felt that he had formed a clearer picture of Ambrose.

The lich seemed to be... particularly short on gold.

That was odd, but given Alkhemia's current circumstances, seemingly plausible.

Undead didn't need food or drink, but even a single magical experiment could cost more than an ordinary person would spend in a lifetime. And a lich never slept. A lich alchemist would pour far more resources into experiments than a human one. His expenses would naturally skyrocket.

Still, it wasn't particularly useful intelligence. You couldn't exactly dangle gold on a string and lure a lich out.

Starfall took out another gold coin and said, "Recommend me a few capable mercenaries."

The bartender pocketed the coin and asked, "What kind of work? Assassination? Infiltration? Theft?"

"No assassinations. I need experts at disarming magical traps. The job is to infiltrate a mage's tower, scout the traps, map the structure, and locate hidden chambers and secret passages."

The bartender frowned. "That won't be easy. Most adventurers have already left Alkhemia. Finding the right people won't be simple."

"Don't worry. The pay will be worth it."

The bartender broke into a grin. "Your timing's perfect. I just happen to know the right candidates, and they're already here."

Then he raised his voice and called out, "Hastin! Hares! Job's up."